Time Will Tell
by edxwin-elric
Summary: Edwin One Shot/Roleswap AU Edward is an automail mechanic and Winry is his most loyal customer.


Rating: T

Pairing: Edwin/Edward Elric x Winry Rockbell

Disclaimer: I don't own _Fullmetal Alchemist_.

Word Count: 2313

Title: Time Will Tell

Description: Edwin One Shot/Roleswap AU

Edward is an automail mechanic and Winry is his most loyal customer. The story is that she lost her right arm and lower left leg due to rogue explosions from the nearby military conflict, but Ed knows the truth. A failed alchemical attempt to bring back her parents after they were killed in Ishval. As someone who lost his own mother, he understands her grief, but his anger at his absentee father on top of that pain has left him with a short fuse. Yet somehow, his annoying and maybe-sometimes-adorable childhood best friend and automail client puts him at ease. However, her frequent visits for repairs are making Ed suspicious.

A/N: Merry Christmas!/Happy Holidays! I hope you like it!

* * *

_**Edward**_

"Hey, Brother?"

"Mmm?"

I don't bother to look up at Al, who has his head in the door to my workroom. I'm focused on fitting a very tiny screw into a very precise hole, so I really don't have time for distractions right now.

"I think you should clear your afternoon."

Narrowing my eyes on my work, I talk around the screwdriver between my teeth. "Why?"

"Uh," he bites his lip and finishes quickly, "Winry just called from the train station. She, uh, needs a repair."

The tool falls out of my mouth, and I see the suddenly-unimportant screw fall between two metal plates as I turn to look over my shoulder.

"What did she do now?"

"I didn't get all the details from Granny, but it sounded pretty bad."

"Son of a bitch," I bite out. "This is the fourth time this month. What the hell is she doing in Central?"

"On the phone I overheard her tell Granny she fell again."

"She said what?" I sputter looking up at him as I move away from the table. "Bullshit!"

Al shrugs, and I let out a low growl.

"As if my automail was flimsy enough to break from a mere fall," I hiss. "Absolute bullshit! I mean, hell, she's supposed to be studying Aerugonian history or literature or something. How does that lead to bimonthly automail repairs?"

"Seriously, Brother, I'm not the one to ask."

Ripping my apron over my head, I throw it on my workbench and tighten the knot at my waist where my coveralls are tied over my black tank top.

"I'm gonna lose my fucking mind, Al," I mutter. "She knows how hard I worked on that arm. It's a masterpiece. I was considering taking her to Rush Valley and entering it for the Innovative Automail Competition. If she ruined it…"

I don't finish my sentence because I'm not sure what I'll do if Winry destroyed her arm, and Al knows it.

"I think that's her coming up the road," Al changes the subject, craning his head to see out the window on to the balcony.

"I can't look," I mumble.

"Granny will be expecting us to go down and greet her."

"I'll come in a minute."

I need at least that long to reign in my temper. It won't do me any good to go off on her the second I go down. She'll only fly into an indignant rage. Or worse, she'll start crying. Nothing is worse than the crushing guilt of making Winry cry.

Al nods and disappears down the hall, and I exhale. I hear her voice float up the stairs a few seconds later, and my stomach flips upside down.

_Shit_.

Why does she have to be so cute? Fuck. I want to scream. Not because she busted my automail—though I could scream over that—but because…

"Fuck," I groan.

I mean, no. NO. I don't have a crush on Winry. I _can't_. She's my client. I'm not _excited_ to see her. I'm just…

Annoyed. That's what it is. Pissed and annoyed because she somehow managed to screw up the fine craftsmanship I did on her arm.

Unless it's her leg.

I hadn't even considered that. I shut my eyes for a second and the image of her smooth thigh flashes through my mind.

I feel my cheeks flush, and I want to punch myself. This is bad. I'm a professional. I shouldn't get distracted like this. What is wrong with me?

"Edward?"

She calls my name from the bottom of the stairs, and I wince because that only makes things worse.

Then again, it's Winry. She's not exactly just any client. She's… She's…

"Ed," her voice calls from the hallway, and I turn toward the door just as she steps inside. "Do you have a minute?"

Dammit. She's perfect.

* * *

_**Winry**_

My mouth goes dry before the question is even out of my mouth, and suddenly, I can't breathe. Since when does he look like that? Those shoulders? And the arms? Did he look like that last time? And how long has he been wearing a fitted black tank top? His pecs are—

"Winry?"

"Hmm?" I blink, lifting my eyes to his.

His eyebrows rise, and I swallow.

"Sorry. I, um…"

"Al said you needed a repair," he starts slowly. "Is that what you wanted to see me about?"

"Oh, um, yes," I say quickly, licking my lips. "Here. It's my wrist."

I walk closer to him and hold out my arm.

"It started locking up while I was writing a paper the other day, and then it did it again last night. I haven't done anything that would mess it up except I fell out of bed the other morning, and I landed on it."

"You fell out of bed?" he echoes with surprise. "How old are you?"

"I had a bad dream," I bite back defensively. "Anyway, what do you think? Can you fix it?"

"Of course, I can fix it." He narrows his eyes at me, and I roll mine. "Come here."

He leads me over to the workbench and grabs a headlamp, which he slips over his forehead and the messy bun at the back of his head. I stand still while he turns my wrist over and back, pulling and twisting here and there, asking me the occasional yes-or-no question.

"Has it been hurting?" He turns it over again and looks up at me.

"Only a twinge here and there. Nothing too serious."

"Hmm."

"What?" I frown, something about his vagueness is bothering me.

"I'm not sure…"

My impatience increases, and I reach up with my free arm to rub my neck.

"Edward, can you fix it or–"

"Hold still, would ya?" he interrupts testily.

"I am being still."

I've been standing still for a whole five minutes, and he has yet to say a single thing about my automail.

"Winry, just–"

"Ow!" I jerk when he twists my arm, sending a burst of pain through my elbow. "That hurt!"

"Well if you'd be still, it wouldn't–"

"I was!" I snap. "And warn me next time!"

"I didn't know it was going to hurt you," he mutters as he straightens, blinding me with his headlamp. "I'm just doing what you wanted, checking your automail. Again."

"Oh, don't blame this on me," I huff. "You designed it. If it keeps breaking, it's probably your fault."

"Bullshit," he snarls, whipping off the light on his head. "That piece was perfect when I fitted it."

"And the Titanic was unsinkable."

"Son of a bitch, Winry, do you want me to fix it or not? Because if we're just going to stand here arguing all day, I have other shit I can be doing."

I sigh, shaking my head.

"I'm sorry," I say softly. "Of course, I want you to fix it."

"Okay." He takes my wrist in his hands again. "Then be still."

"Fine."

"Okay," he says after fiddling with it for another five minutes. "I think I found the problem. Fair warning, this might hurt."

Before he even finishes, he presses down with his thumb, and a sharp pain shoots from my wrist up my arm and shoulder into my neck.

"Edward!" I screech at him as tears spring into my eyes.

"What? You said to warn you, so I did!"

"That was hardly a warning," I hiss, pulling my wrist away and cradling my arm.

"You're impossible!" He shouts, waving his arms in surrender.

"Me? If either of us is impossible it's you!"

"Oh yeah? Well, I'm not the one who wants a warning and then yells at me even after I give her one!"

"That's not why I yelled," I retort, my voice strained with annoyance. "God, how did I fall in love with such an idiot?"

"I'm not an idiot! I'm—wait, what?"

"I yelled because I was in pain. You didn't give me time to prepare before you–"

"What did you say?" he cuts me off, and I blink.

"When?"

"Just now."

"Um…" I frown. "You're an idiot?"

"Not that part. The other thing."

"I was in pain?"

"It was before that," he mumbles.

"Oh, I said–" I pause, and my heart trips over itself.

_Did I really say that? Oh no._

I feel my eyes get wide, and I look back at Ed who is watching me closely.

"I said, um…"

"You said you're in love with me," he finishes finally. "Right?"

"Well…" I swallow, and I feel heat lick my face. "I think, technically, I said I was in love with an idiot…"

"But I'm the only idiot you know, right?"

"St-statistically, that isn't necessarily true. I mean, I know a lot of people, and more than likely several of them are–"

"Oh my God, you're such a nerd."

"Shut up," I hiss, ducking my head.

"Just…let me fix your arm."

"Okay." I hold my wrist out to him and avoid eye contact as he makes his adjustments.

"Sorry if this hurts again."

He puts pressure on a spot by my thumb, and I wince. Reaching out with my other hand for something to keep me from collapsing, I find his elbow and cling to him for balance.

"Shit," he whispers. "Give me a second. I just need to…"

He grabs a screwdriver from the table and returns his focus to the automail while my fingers remain tightly curled around his arm.

"There," he says gently. "Better?"

I'm hesitant to move it after the excruciating jolt from a second ago. Another one of those will bring me to my knees for sure.

"Here," he murmurs, taking my automail hand in both of his. "I'm just going to try to rotate it."

"Okay."

He moves it carefully, and I watch, holding my breath. When it doesn't hurt, I nod, and he turns it again more quickly.

"I think that worked," I say quietly as I exhale.

"It was just jammed. A fall like you mentioned could've caused it. I'll just need to make a note of how it happened, so I can adjust my design."

"Thank you, Ed."

"Don't mention it."

He moves away, and I suddenly feel nervous. I watch as he returns the screwdriver to the workbench, and then I grab his hand without thinking.

"What?" He blinks, turning back to me.

"Um…just… Nothing." I let go, and look away, a new flush climbing up my neck. "I just… I was going to say, um…"

"Yes?"

"It's okay if you don't feel that way," I blurt. "I mean, if you don't like me like that."

"Oh." He nods.

"I mean, I understand. I didn't mean to blurt it out like that, and I don't want to make things weird between us–"

"Shut up, Winry."

"Right." I press my lips together and start to leave. "I should go."

"No, that's not what I meant."

"What?" I look back up at him.

"I…I was trying to say you don't have to… I mean, you don't have to explain… I-I–"

"You what, Ed?"

"Fuck it."

I open my mouth to ask what _that_ is supposed to mean, but then he's moving toward me. Fast. I blink, and his hand curls around my hip, and suddenly he's kissing me.

_Oh._

It lasts half a second, and then I realize I need to kiss him back.

So, I do.

Immediately, his hand slides around my neck, and he groans against me. My arm curls around his waist, and I sigh against his lips.

A knock from the doorway surprises us, and we instantly separate.

"Well," says Al smugly. "It's about damn time."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Ed glares at him, his hand still on my waist.

"Don't ruin the moment, Brother."

Ed looks ready to lay into him, but Alphonse walks off before he can.

"Ignore him," I say softly. "He's just teasing you."

"I know," he growls, "but it's still irritating."

"Granny said she's making stew by the way!" Al calls from down the hall.

"Be there in a minute!" I shout back at him.

"Stew is good," Ed comments starting for the door. "I'm starving."

"Ed, wait." I tug on his arm. "What does this mean?"

"What does what mean?" He tilts his head at me.

"You kissed me?" I shift my weight.

"Oh yeah. Well, um…" He rubs the back of his neck. "I figured you like me, and I like you, and we'll just…see what happens, I guess."

"Oh good. I just wanted to be sure. Let's go eat."

"Fuck yeah."

He starts for the door, and I follow him.

"You know," I tell him on the stairs, "if we aren't telling Granny yet, I'll probably need to fake some automail injuries to give me a reason to visit more often."

"I wouldn't be opposed to that," he mutters. "As long as they're fake."

"Oh, but Granny will be able to spot a false injury, so I'll just have to find a way to break my automail on purpose."

"What!" he sputters, tripping on a stair. "No! Don't you dare!"

I walk faster down the steps as he yells after me.

"Winry, you're kidding, right? Winry?"

Pressing my lips together to keep from laughing, I make my way to the kitchen where I fix a bowl for Ed along with my own. I'll put him out of his misery when we sit down. I'm not that cruel. I know how important automail is to him. I just also enjoy riling him up, the same way he does me.

"There's never a dull moment with you two, is there?" Granny says as she sits down at the table.

I grin and sit down across from her. "I certainly hope not, but only time will tell."

And I really look forward to finding out.


End file.
